


five years

by k8 (paintedmaypole)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-21
Updated: 2002-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedmaypole/pseuds/k8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a boy, twelve, green eyes. He'll be in front of Third Shrine at 1400 hours. Chris received a transmission on the meeting three days earlier. He thought, 'simple.'</p><p>--<br/>Alternative Universe story set in a strange slightly futuristic version of Egypt. Inspired by Stargate, Bowie, and odd dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five years

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Katie and Kel for the betabeta, particularly for doing it when everyone, including themselves, was frantically writing and betaing stories. Also, heaps of thanks to Georgina and Pet for organizing, coding, and putting heaps of time, energy, and patience into [Don We Now Our Gay Apparel](http://www.juppy.org/santa/by_alpha.php) back in the day. Lyrics snatched from David Bowie, quotes lifted from the _Hymn to Osiris_ and Emily Dickinson, culture and traditions of ancient Egypt tampered with for my own purposes. No curses on my _ka_ please.

_Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing_

There's a boy, twelve, green eyes. He'll be in front of Third Shrine at 1400 hours. Chris received a transmission on the meeting three days earlier. He thought, 'simple.'

The boy, twelve, green eyes, will be selling oranges and scrap parts. Chris will offer him three dead transmitters and a battery PAC. The boy will take the PAC. A simple informational exchange, two new maps of the guard posts around Upper Egypt, five new contacts in the outposts, and new entry codes to The Network.

Chris adjusts his gray head covering. He's a cow worshipper today. Three blue dots on his forehead and the head scarf twisted three times, clockwise. It's a comfortable personality. It reminds him of his mother. It's not 1400 yet. The guard will rotate at 1345 and then it will be time to move. Chris shifts the straps on his bag, heads past the barrels of fuel oil and the cases of photovoltaics stacked around him and heads towards the food stalls.

He aims for the green one, third in on the right. There's a small line in front of the stall and Joey is ladling out milk-tea when Chris gets to the front. Chris peers up at the signboard with one eye and watches with the other as Joey blinks at him for a moment, then there's recognition. Joey's head twitches right, just a little. There's a man there, older, with a dark beard. He's wearing his red Sales/Goods pass-through pin for the Nile docks and a younger man sits with him. They both wear gray spider patches on their right shoulders, The Guide.

Chris shrugs his shoulders at Joey; he's a cow worshipper today. He moves up to the counter, "milk-tea and curry egg." Chris hands over money, paper only, no chit, then turns to sit down.

One of The Guide has moved. The younger man is behind him looking up at the menu board. Chris smiles, raises his palm, "greetings cousin."

The man has blue eyes, they blink-- _pretty._ He looks confused and Chris looks again. The man's hard-sandals are almost new. It's odd, but then he nods, "and to you." The man looks back up at the board. By the time Chris finishes half the curry egg, they're gone.

 

Chris finishes everything, throws his trash into the waste box and leaves. He moves around the block, cuts between the fish stand and the water collectors, ducks into the back entrance of the food stand. Joey is waiting for him, looking vaguely nervous. "News?"

"Nothing massive, nothing tiny either. I haven't done anything in a week." Chris taps his finger on the table, the data screen in the corner is flashing heat readings from between the East-Memphis dunes. "I don't like it."

"What are you here for? Do you need me to open the storehouse?"

Chris shakes his head, "I'll be in and out. The Contact in Upper needs the new codes." Chris shifts his feet and looks at his wristpad, almost time to leave. "There should be a call tonight, stay on the line. Lance wants a meeting."

"Meetings," Joey smiles, "he knows those things bore me to death."

Chris shrugs, "I want to hear the report from The Contact. Upper smells funny." He pauses, "I'll tell Lance to make it quick," Chris winks, "so we don't overtire you."

"The thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated."

Chris smiles again and pulls open his headscarf, retwists the bottom roll and moves towards the door. "Fuck the revolution."

Joey grins, "fuck 'em."

 

1343 exactly when the guard begins to move. The early ones are always young, very eager. Chris is walking towards Third Shrine by 1357, scanning from left to right. Two more of The Guide at the left entrance. Chris raises his palm-- "greetings cousin"-- and moves towards the right, waiting around the corner. The boy should circle until the meeting.

1409 and still no boy. Chris moves away from the wall and heads across the square, towards the Free Water. Third Shrine is large, old, the _hem-netjer_ put cooling units in the tanks years ago. Chris waits in the line circling the tanks. There's a nomad in front of him, water suit unzipped and hanging off her hips. She moves away and Chris walks forward. He touches his hand to the statue of the red calf and its mother, smudges water on the inside of each wrist.

"Fucking cow lover."

Chris looks up, startled. That's not something you hear much these days, not this close to Upper. There's a group of girls on the other side of the fountain, none of them are looking at him, but one of them has her hand on another's arm, the fingers holding on tight. Chris stoops again and drinks the water, when he looks up they're gone.

He fills a water unit for later and turns back towards the right entrance. Chris sees the boy from behind. He has bag of oranges over his shoulder and a blue wagon with scrap piled in it. The boy is talking to someone, a man with a beard.

 _Fuck._ Chris steps back. It's one of the men from before. The older one, the spider armband of The Guide still on his arm. _Fuck._ Chris turns and walks away, quickly quickly. He heads into the markets, past the food stalls and the fuel merchants, further and further in until his breathing evens. He can't head back to Joey; the stall might be watched. Chris frowns, Joey will hate him if he has to give it up.

Chris waits, leans against the wall, scanning the stalls and the buyers. No one's sticking out, everyone's sandals and fingernails look appropriately dirty and old. Chris keeps waiting, fingernails don't mean much in the long run. He rubs his shoulder, it's still sore from the infiltration last week. Close, but it was worth it. Lance swore the new maps were inaccessible; Chris can't resist a challenge. Scanning the crowd again, he pushes off the wall and walks around the corner, hops into an alley and watches some more, it looks clear.

He cuts through the alley and takes the long route to the second storehouse. It's more secure than the one Joey accesses, only Chris knows the real location. Chris keys in his access codes and moves inside. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until he's looking around at an empty room and letting out air. He checks the photovoltaics, there's enough power in storage to open up the system. Chris logs in and heads for the message line, he leaves a note on the East-Memphis weather station log.

"Outside disruption on 1400 contact. Need to establish new meeting."

Twenty minutes later the message changes. "Will discuss during group call, hold."

Chris clears the message and logs out. He sets the system to fully charge and heads towards the cot in the corner. Watching the flicker of the monitor on the wall, he naps.

 

 _News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in_

JC's back inside Upper Egypt by 1452. He leaves his hard-sandals and The Guide armband in one storage closet and leaves his waist belt in another. He reaches his rooms and Justin is waiting for him, tapping his fingernails against a table.

"You're late."

"Am I?" JC looks at his wristpad.

Justin winces at it. "Why do you still wear that thing?" Justin prefers his technology subtle.

JC smiles at him, "I'll change it." He walks into the inner room and Justin follows.

"Where have you been? I came looking at least twenty minutes ago." Justin frowns, "JC, you can't go like this, you need to wash."

JC leaves his wristpad on the table, then pulls off his linen skirt, throws it on the sleeping couch. "There isn't enough time." He walks to the basin in the corner and splashes himself with water.

"Here," Justin throws him a towel. He nods, "that's most of it. Come on."

JC takes a fresh skirt out, one with heavy pleats. He puts on the gold wristpad, snaps the cover down over the data screen.

Justin nods at him and begins to move towards the door. "There was another attack last week. Mother says nothing was taken, but they were able to hack the system."

JC blinks. If he were alone, he might smile. "The system is too strong. They won't ever be able to actually extract anything of value."

Justin shakes his head. "The Guide are concerned. They will announce the word of the oracle again, more firmly this time."

JC doesn't reply. He heads down the hall, smoothing down his hair.

 

They reach the courtyards before the _hem-netjer_ speaks. No one comments on the late entrance. The Guide collect in the courtyard and the red calf is taken out to be shown to the people. JC can hear the cheering, even inside. He closes his eyes.

A hand touches his shoulder. JC checks his initial twist, the elbow almost moving to jab. It's just Johnny, looking cleaner than earlier and frowning.

"I wasn't able to get the parts you needed. I sent the boy, but there was no meeting. Apologies."

JC's eyes widen, just a little. "That is. Surprising."

"Yes." Johnny nods and moves away, crossing to join The Guide.

JC looks out around the courtyard. He needs the new codes. He needs them before the week ends. JC stands and waits. The _hem-netjer_ announces the word of the oracle again: _A time of unbalance. Five years in which_ maat _lacks even weight. Five years in which the will is tested, people fall out of Pharaoh's hands and the dead are not left easy._ JC clenches his left hand. Year two is about to begin and The Guide are only beginning to be concerned. Things must move faster.

 

 _My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare_

There's screaming. It's dark and it's nighttime and The Guide are everywhere. Chris holds his mother's bag and tries to push her along. He's thinking, move, move, move. His sister dropped her bag a mile back. The books were in it and she's crying. Chris would cry too, but he's too busy running. He can hear The Guide. Their neighbor was running next to them, but then she plopped down dead and bloody in the street. Close, very very close. They're almost at the South-Memphis dunes, there's a transport tunnel there. Chris looks back at his sister and suddenly he can't move. He looks back and watches her running but he can't move or shout or breathe as she looks at him, calls his name, and falls. He's watching his sister, he's stuck, and his mother is falling next to him, he can feel it. Then he just stands there and cries. He can't breathe.

 

Chris sits straight up with a gasp, blinking. The call, the fucking storehouse. There's no light in the room, the monitor's shut off. Chris hates sleeping in the dark. He pushes off the cot, shaking his head and pulling at his ear. It feels like there's sand in his brain. He turns on the lantern and checks the time. He's slept too long, it's almost time for the call. Chris blinks at the bright light, waiting for his eyes to adjust. His stomach growls. Food, in a bit. He reboots the system and it's up to full power. He logs into the call line, hovering. He always lets someone else give their call-sign first.

"Wepwawet here," The Contact speaks first. "Check in please."

Chris smiles. Some voices are just a comfort. Chris still wonders what he looks like. There's an image in his head, he wants to see the difference. Chris clears his throat, "Sobek."

Lance's voice cuts in. "Thoth online. What happened with the meeting? Are you secure?"

"Unclear. Messenger appeared compromised."

"No," The Contact speaks quickly, "messenger is guaranteed."

Chris shakes his head. "Messenger was conversing with the fucking Guide!"

There's a pause on the call. Chris is about to speak when The Contact speaks again. "Messenger is guaranteed."

Fuck. Chris can't think of a thing to say. "Are you the--" He stops. "Sorry."

There's another pause, longer. Chris thinks he may have screwed the call, then Joey crackles in and Chris jumps. "Sorry, Anhur online."

"It's fine, we haven't started." The Contact pauses, "no. I'm not."

"Let's move on." Lance speaks evenly. Chris wants to strangle him sometimes, just to see if there would ever be a flash of temper. "Wepwawet. How immediate is your need?"

"Fairly immediate. Apologies, clearly the meeting was not. Seamless, on this end."

"It's forgotten," Chris reaches for his water unit, "my concern was that we were compromised."

"Ah," Joey sounds embarrassed, "should I be concerned?"

"No", Lance cuts in again, "situation stable. Wepwawet, the news from Upper has been very thin. The _hem-netjer_ presented the prophecy again today?"

"Yes, the raid last week created concern. That was a tidy job, Sobek."

Chris smiles. It was. "I suspect we'll have to show we're obtaining some data from them soon though. They aren't making enough of a fuss."

"That could be premature." Lance always prefers to hold back, it's an old argument.

"No," Contact intervenes, "I concur. Our time is limited, the second year is beginning. All the weight lies with The Guide and Pharaoh, we must increase our own mass."

"Substance." Chris mutters. "The rebellion needs to have substance."

"Thy name is established in the mouths of men."

"Thou art the substance of two lands," Chris finishes. Old that one, his mother used to have the book.

Joey coughs, "I'm not for unnecessary risk, but it might be time. It's been too quiet lately, besides" he chuckles, "You two will go stir crazy if we don't move with more intent. And we risk loosing attention."

"Alright," Lance sighs, "if it's time, it just is. Let me think on it. I need to check in with the nomads. Sobek, Wepwawet will need that data. Are you able to hover until a new meeting?"

"Yes."

"Wepwawet? Can you discuss logistics?"

"I'd prefer it. What about the same configuration? Meeting at 1700 tomorrow."

Chris frowns, he's on a supply run in the morning. "That's tricky. Is Friday possible?"

"The codes reset Saturday. I'd like to have more of a window."

"You're fairly invisible in either get up," Joey cuts in.

Chris sighs, "fairly invisible isn't fully invisible." He's too paranoid, he knows this. "Thursday, 1700, we'll do it."

"Good," Lance sounds distracted. "I'll set up a call that evening. Apologies, I need to sign off now."

There's a soft beep on the line, Lance is gone. Joey chuckles, "well, you didn't have to ask him to be brief. That's something."

Chris smiles, "How did we get you in the revolution? You don't have the patience for this job."

The Contact coughs. "And you are so known for your patience, Sobek."

"Yes, exactly," Joey pauses, "either of you need any new supplies before Sunday?"

"No, thank you."

Chris listens while Joey says his prolonged good-byes. He is not a man for brevity. The Contact is quiet when Joey hangs up, Chris wonders if he'll stay today.

"We slowly drove, he know no haste..."

"You always know my favorites," Chris smiles, "I suspect telepathy. "

"Not likely," The Contact snorts. There's a sigh. "They tried developing that at one point. Breeding telepaths. There was, testing. Pharaoh and The Guide felt it would help them maintain _maat._ Or obtain it."

Chris sits up straighter. "Do you have files on this? What's the data source?"

There's nothing for a moment, just breathing. "The data source is lost. Apologies."

Ah. "Perhaps it's better."

"Perhaps. I would have enjoyed it though, a reading of those files in the courtyards." He clicks his tongue, Chris guesses that he's smiling. "I think the dead would have. Been calmed."

Chris puts his hand to his forehead. He hasn't washed off the blue dots yet. "Since then tis centuries; but each feels shorter than the day."

"Odd, that one."

"Yes. My mother kept scans. We had a few books too."

"When I was 11, I found a room of books. There were shelves on every wall. And boxes."

Chris sucks in air, "So many," his throat feels dry. "We've just." He swallows, "so much has been lost. Trying to get it all back. This fighting is nothing compared to that."

"Yes. Yes, but," The Contact sighs. "There's a well near where I live, the balcony overlooks it. From my window you can see four birds set into the side, lapis lazuli, and the top of the well is a brass dome. It was a gift from some country across the dessert, for a treaty. The faith wasn't shared, but it was a gift."

Chris nods to himself, "hopeful. These things are important. We need them to create new goals."

"I'm not sure about goals sometimes. The Guide and their damn cow lovers are--"

"No." Chris speaks quickly, "the cow worshippers are not the problem."

"They don't help."

"No. They don't hurt either." Chris looks around, rubs his forehead, hard. "They are not the problem. I have to go. Meeting on Thursday, 1700."

"Apologies."

"It's fine, I'm not. I need to eat, I have to go." Chris cuts the call and logs off.

 

 _a girl my age went off her head, hit some tiny children_

JC's neck is sore. He sits up slowly and turns his neck left, right; waits for the crack. He looks out through the balcony, there's a bird sitting on the edge of the well. The sun is rising. He never seems to sleep on the couch anymore. The monitor is flashing at him, connection cut at 2357. Sobek. JC wonders what he looks like.

JC thumbs the release pad for the console. It moves back into the wall and the door panel closes behind him as JC walks away. No garish sightings of technology for Justin to wince at. He walks out into the outer room. Dinner is still on the table. JC picks up a piece of flat bread and rubs at his neck again. Tired, he always feels tired lately.

 

The door chime wakes him up again. It's brighter now, full morning at least. JC sits up, he has to get word to the boy. The door chimes again. It's Justin, he walks into the room and clicks his tongue at the remains of dinner.

"Things are unsettled. There's rioting at the Sales/Goods center." Justin frowns, "it seems excessive, to kill so many."

JC raises an eyebrow; his headache is back.

"Not that The Guide-- never mind." Justin gestures at the dish of food. "Do you want the rest?"

JC shakes his head and pushes the tray over. "Why the riots?"

"There was a cleansing. Younger members of The Guide tried to liberate some children, siblings. The oldest one, she killed the rest of them. Poisoned." Justin puts down his food. "Why would someone do that? They would have just taken them to the boarding homes."

"I guess the boarding homes are less appreciated than The Guide would like."

Justin snorts, "Don't let mother hear that."

"No." JC looks out at the window, he doesn't know the time. "Is it 1200 yet?"

"Past." Justin shakes his head, "I was heading over at 1300." He puts his hand on JC's arm. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little. Maybe I'll sleep later." He has to get to the boy.

"Later? Not likely. There's a hearing at 1500."

JC looks up quickly, "When did that happen?"

Justin frowns, "There was a raid on a smuggling route this morning. It was a very established route."

Shit. "1500? Where was the route?" This damages the meeting, JC will have to be at the hearings.

"Through Lower, the eastern sections. Mother is quite pleased."

 

The hearings begin promptly. This type always does. JC keeps to the side, looks down at the row of people speaking. Justin is up on the left, next to his mother. JC listens as the guidelines broken are listed. His father reads the laws. It's a matter of great weight, to avoid the tax. The Guide speak about the rebellion and how routes such as this can only aid them. JC starts, he hadn't thought of that. Something to mention to Johnny. Or Thoth.

JC looks around the courtyard. There are small clumps of people, all watching with interest. Even a servant, watching from a corner. He's watching the groups watching. JC's eye's narrow, he looks familiar somehow, probably a member of The Guide. There's activity on the floor. A woman with ram horns tattooed on her arms is taken away. JC doesn't want to be here. He catches Justin's eye, twitches his head towards the columns at the right and waits for another commotion before he leaves through them. He heads back to his rooms to reschedule the meeting. Again.

 

 _don't think you knew you were in this song_

Chris waits in the hallway. He keeps his head down, keeps a green shoulder cloth visible, and lets anyone who sees him assume he's a servant. It's quiet in this area of the palaces, quieter and older. The doors are more simple, a touch pad on the right side. Chris can get through these locks in his sleep. When he enters the rooms everything is dark. The outer chamber has a table, low couches. He looks around for a workspace, a spot in the wall where the console might be. He wants to see what he can find. He wants to know who this man is.

There's a second room to try. Chris heads towards it, but walks into a low table. The bowl of oranges almost hits the floor. Almost, but he catches it. He moves through the rooms until he finds one that looks more used. There's an old wristpad thrown on the table, a washbasin in the corner, an empty sleeping couch. Chris snaps his head right, almost sees the shadow early enough, but then the hand is around his throat, an arm pulling on his shoulder-- twisting-- and there's a voice in his ear.

"There's nothing to steal here. You picked the wrong rooms."

Chris grins, sharp. "I see several things of value."

Chris twists left, pulls down and out as the other man tries to move sideways with him. He kicks out with his feet and knocks the man to the floor, scanning the room. There's a balcony, Chris pushes himself up, leaps over the sleeping couch. He's pushing through the curtains when he's hit, hard, in the side. Chris twists and lands on his back, looking up.

The man is standing there, blinking at him and barely breathing heavy. Chris is surprised, he must have training. He's familiar though. Something. The man steps forwards and Chris kicks out again with his ankle. Chris jumps up, turns, and looks over the edge. It's not much of a jump, there's a garden below. He swings over the railing and lands on his feet, looking for another exit.

There isn't one. Just walls to the left and right and a well in front of him. Chris stares at the birds. Four blue ones on the edge of the well. He looks around the courtyard. It's a garden, three high walls and a door under the balcony. The one balcony. The path circles back to the door. Chris turns back towards the balcony and the man is walking towards him, Chris didn't even hear him jump. The man is watching Chris, he looks wary.

"Thou art the substance of two lands." Chris points at the well, the man stops. "Thou art the beneficent spirit among the spirits."

It's quiet. Chris takes two breaths, ready to run again, but the moment's gone on too long, Chris can feel it. He can see it now too. In the eyes, it's the man from Joey's food stall. Chris smiles, "you weren't lying about lacking the telepathy were you?"

"Fuck." He takes a long breath, staring at Chris. "Sobek."

Chris nods, feels his chest loosen. He lets out his breath. "Wepwawet."

The Contact shakes his head, "JC." He puts his hand out, touches Chris's shoulder. "Here, let's go back inside."

Chris follows him down the path, through the door and up the stairs. They'd all known that one day people would meet. Joey and Chris spent one evening eating stew and venturing guesses, his potential roles and levels of responsibility. JC nods at the sleeping couch and Chris sits. JC pours water for each of them.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find more information. Following you." Chris shrugs, "I was in the courtyards this afternoon, I watched you slip out. The smuggling route they found, it was ours."

"Damages?"

"Probably, but I don't think they know what they have. I need a call with Lance."

"Lance?"

"Thoth."

"I didn't know you knew each other's names."

"Some I don't. A few of us do. We only use the call-signs when we're live. We go back a bit. Some of us." He drinks the water. "Lance called you The Contact."

JC smiles, "The Contact." He looks around the room. "I guess we don't need to reschedule the meeting." JC sits on the floor, cross-legged, and watches Chris. "I'd wondered what you looked like."

"I didn't expect you to have that hair."

"Yes well," JC smiles, "I'm often told I should cut it."

"Don't. It suits you." Chris looks down at his wristpad, The Guide rotates soon. "I have to leave." He reaches into the belt around his waist. "Your battery PAC."

JC frowns, "can you leave easily?"

"Yes." He gets up and walks back towards the doorway. He rests his hand on the doorframe and looks back at JC, still sitting on the floor. "I'll come back."

 

 _I kiss you, you're beautiful, I want you to walk_

There's a hand on his knee. JC can feel the four fingers, curling around his kneecap and the thumb pressing underneath and behind, pushing up. He opens his eyes and blinks up into the dark room, the hand hot on his skin. JC breathes. He's three days late. He comes on Tuesdays, every Tuesday but this time he's three days late. "I didn't think you were coming."

"I was detained. The supply route isn't being cooperative. Apologies."

"It's new, give it time." JC pushes himself up onto his elbows, watches the outline of Chris's face. He can feel Chris's other hand on the cushion, a section of his skin hitting JC's leg.

"That's what Lance said." Chris sits up and pulls off his sandals, he places them under the sleeping couch. He kneels over JC and looks down, leans his face forward, his breath in JC's ear. "I missed you." He touches JC's shoulder. "I have to leave by 400."

JC pulls himself up, leaning into Chris. He pushes his hand down Chris's chest, rests it on his hip. "Here." He kisses Chris, hard. Their teeth click, just a little, and JC pushes his thigh up, tighter to Chris's body. JC pushes him backwards and leans over him, watching Chris's hand against the mattress. He's not waiting.

 

 _I think she would have killed them_

Chris waits for Joey in the ruins. He's sitting on a bomb. Pharaoh is building a new complex of boarding homes, to keep more of the children pure. So today Chris is The Guide. He can be The Guide now, thanks to JC. So today he and Joey are going to blow up some buildings. Chris feels his legs twitching, they have three years and a handful of months left, a limited window, and he's waiting for Joey. He wants to move.

Joey arrives. He carries a case and wears the skirt of an oil merchant, the green chemicals badge carefully pinned on his arm. He looks at Chris, "you ready?"

"Yes." Chris stands up and moves into the shadow of a tall column. There are animals painted on the side of it. A jackal and a ram stare down at him and Chris almost thinks their eyes move.

It's hot. There's a breeze, barely. Chris will take the case and the bomb and leave for the site. He will wait until midnight, until The Guide rotates. He'll skirt the front entrance, take the codes JC has given him and use them on the supply gate. He'll slip in, and set up the network. First a virus in the system, then the building will go. That is the plan.

By midnight, Chris will have been taken into custody.

 

 _I never thought I'd need so many people_

Pharaoh's called a special hearing. There will be no data reports to the public. JC waits in the closed courtyard, everyone waits. The Guide look alert and the _hem-netjer_ are speaking in the temples against more riots. JC leans against the wall and watches. He's tired, he waited for Chris and he didn't come. He went to the spice markets, the food stalls, and couldn't find him there either. There's no intel, nothing to report. Every channel is dead and no one speaks, they just walk through the hallways quickly from one room to another.

JC's father walks into the room. Pharaoh is with him, the _hem-netjer_ of First Shrine, and the voice of The Guide. There's motion on the floor as well, a section of The Guide moves forward and then there is Chris in the middle of the room.

JC begins to step forward, feels his mouth beginning to open, but he checks the motion, pushes back further into the wall. He looks for Johnny, but he can't find him in the crowd. He looks over at his father, but sees Justin instead, watching him. Justin looks away, quickly, towards Chris, and then back again. JC looks back at the crowd.

He tries to listen to the words, but by now he knows the routine. There is evidence. There is a person connected to it. There is a target and a plan. There are riots in the streets again and people shouting for the rebellion to continue. There is a struggle for balance, for control and the Oracle only said there was opportunity, didn't say anything about the actual ending.

 

When the hearing is over, JC returns to his rooms. He stands on the balcony, thinking hard. His father's computers access the full network. Justin's private ones access enough. Johnny would know who was guarding who and when. He logs into the weather station and leaves a note for Lance: "Call tonight, critical. Any time, will hover." Then he sits on the floor of the balcony and waits.

2142, JC's still on the balcony and he hears footsteps. Justin pushes through the curtain and looks down at him.

"I don't want you to leave."

JC looks up, quickly. "Who said I was leaving?"

"JC." Justin pauses, then shakes his head.

JC leans his head back against the railing, looks out at the courtyard. There's a set of trees in the left corner, they need watering. Justin sits down next to him and watches JC.

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes, but I don't think I should get them from you."

"What do you need?"

"Information mainly, my father will have access. There's. Someone else I can ask too."

Justin nods, "Johnny."

JC shakes his head, "you don't know any of this."

"No?" Justin rubs at the back of his neck, "maybe I need to." He stands up and leans out over the railing. "I don't want you to leave, but you haven’t been here all year." He turns back and looks at JC, "everyone's muttering about balance and unbalance. Okay, then," Justin nods, "fine. You had five years. Now the second year is about to end. Go, but fucking move."

Justin walks towards the curtain. He touches JC's shoulder before he walks through. "Just keep in touch. I do want to be Pharaoh when she dies. I'd rather avoid you trying to kill me."

JC nods up at him and looks back at the well. He doesn't hear Justin leave.

 

 _And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people_

Chris is in a transport. A new set of The Guide has been assigned to him. Younger, Chris isn't sure if he should be insulted or grateful. He's waiting. There's a bench in the back, a seat scooped out in the center and The Guide on his left and right. He's not sure where they're taking him.

The road they're on is smooth. He's not sure how long it's been, but it feels like they've moved away from Upper, out towards the desert somewhere. He doesn't think they're going to kill him. They haven't learned much from him yet.

There's a bend in the road. Chris can feel the transport lean into it, but then it just keeps leaning. The transport hangs right, hard, and the Guide on Chris's right hits the floor. Chris flexes his feet. He's wearing sandals, but his ankles are latched to the floor. There's a loud thump in front of them, it makes Chris's ears ring. There's a second thump behind them and Chris closes his eyes. He flexes his right hand, then his left. There's a crackling noise at the back of the transport. He can hear The Guide in the transport moving, but he doesn't open his eyes. His mother always told him he moved to fast. When he read her books, he'd want to read the ending first and then begin.

Chris opens his eyes. Joey is in front of him, kneeling on the floor. He's biting his lip and working at the latches on Chris's ankles. The rear of the transport is open. There's something burning behind it and JC is standing outside, keeping watch. JC looks back at him, quickly.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

Joey stands up, hits Chris on the shoulder, "Then let's leave."

Chris stands up, winces. His whole left side is sore. He jumps out the back and JC puts a hand on his shoulder. The fire creates an area of light and Joey stands at the edge, adjusting a bag on his shoulders. Chris looks back at the transport, but JC pushes a little, on his shoulder.

"We need to connect with Lance."

Chris shifts and they walk towards Joey, heading for the weather station.

 

Chris leaves the meeting and heads for something to sleep on. He hasn't seen Lance in ages, the boy's lost weight. He's also been busy. There are five new stations established and tent cities beginning to form around two of them. Chris sits on the edge of a cot and begins to take off his shoes. There's a quiet cough and Chris almost jumps, but then JC is in front of him, sitting down next to him and pulling Chris closer. Chris kisses him, pushes his hand across JC's back and then moves away again, watching JC.

"No," JC pulls him back. "Enough of that. Move."

\-----  
Five Years  
by David Bowie

Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing  
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in  
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying  
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying  
I heard telephones, opera house, favorite melodies  
I saw boys, toys electric irons and T.V.'s  
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare  
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there  
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people  
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people  
I never thought I'd need so many people

A girl my age went off her head, hit some tiny children  
If the black hadn't a-pulled her off, I think she would have killed them  
A soldier with a broken arm, fixed his stare to the wheels of a Cadillac  
A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, and a queer threw up at the sight of that  
I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlor, drinking milk shakes cold and long  
Smiling and waving and looking so fine, don't think you knew you were in this song  
And it was cold and it rained so I felt like an actor  
And I thought of Ma and I wanted to get back there  
Your face, your race, the way that you talk  
I kiss you, you're beautiful, I want you to walk

We've got five years, stuck on my eyes  
We've got five years, what a surprise  
We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot  
We've got five years, that's all we've got


End file.
